


Strapped

by Always_Bottom_Derek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Boot Worship, Bottom Derek Hale, Desperation, Enemas, Homophobic Language, Humiliation kink, Leather Kink, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Slut Derek Hale, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Bottom_Derek/pseuds/Always_Bottom_Derek
Summary: No one in Beacon Hills knows that Derek is a secret leather bottom-bitch. It’s an itch that lives, teasing, constant, just under his skin. One he rarely allows himself to scratch.But when the need gets overwhelming and he just can’t bear another day going by without being properly punished and used, he pulls a duffle from his closet and heads off to Sacramento.





	1. Chapter 1

 

[ ](https://alwaysbottomderek.tumblr.com/image/177717163742)

No one in Beacon Hills knows that Derek is a secret leather bottom-bitch. It’s an itch that lives, teasing, constant, just under his skin. One he rarely allows himself to scratch.

But when the need gets overwhelming and he just can’t bear another day going by without being properly punished and used, he pulls a duffle from his closet and heads off to Sacramento.

It’s amazing what goes on in that sprawling university town. L.A. and San Francisco, for sure, don’t hold all the cards on California’s deviance.

The city is just a few hours by car but it seems like a month. Derek is so pent up he doesn’t even make it all the way this trip. Instead, he has to stop at a truck stop sixty miles out and trick a trucker in a gas station toilet.

The damp knees of his jeans from kneeling on piss-covered tiles, the stink of unwashed man-meat that lingers in his nose, and the taste of diner seasoned spunk in his mouth is just enough to center him so he can make it through that last hour.

He checks into a seedy motel on the city outskirts and quickly sets to work getting himself ready. His heart beats fast with excitement; his gut knots tight with anticipation, shame, and an electric sliver of fear for what the night might hold.

Derek shaves his muscled body bare, knowing as fast as his hair grows he’ll be sporting scruff on his chin again and a five o’clock shadow on his chest by the time he gets to the club.

He cleans his ass, siphoning so much water into his guts in his enema they ache. _It’s delicious._ He fantasizes that the warm rush from the tap is piss from a dozen fat daddy cocks filling him up until his lean belly swells, taut and heavy.

Shaved, bathed, and empty, Derek fills his ass with lube, pumping it in deep. He’s not overly generous though, because he wants to feel it. Wants it to hurt. To burn. So that there’s no denying his hungry mancunt is at his future stud's mercy.

Derek silently hopes he'll have none.

A fat plug is shoved his ass to keep his slick from leaking out. Too eager for pain, he goes the extra mile tonight and pierces his nipples right there in the hotel room. Unworried about infection, he’s only sad they’ll heal before he can even really savor the needle’s sting.

Gold rings glinting in 60-watt glory, Derek opens his duffle again and pulls out his gear in all its leather splendor. Polished thick straps, black, sensual and sinister, slide like lover’s hands over his skin as he pulls them on.

It’s only when his chest is bound, the last buckle secured, that Derek is able to take his first real breath in over a month.

His fat pecs and plush ass framed, he feels held. It’s comforting in a way that makes his dick hard. But he doesn’t touch himself: the moment the leather kissed his skin he gave up that privilege.

Maybe the right leather daddy, alpha stud will jerk him off later if he serves well enough. If it doesn’t happen, that‘s okay too. All that really matters tonight is that he brings the cock that owns him the utmost pleasure.

Eager to fulfill his purpose, Derek slips into a pair of baggy joggers and an equally oversized hoodie, hiding all his bottom-bitch glory for reveal in the club’s locker.

When he finally steps outside, the uber he called is waiting in the parking lot, its lights on to thwart the coming darkness. Derek, on the other hand, welcomes it. He pulls a deep breath, and instead of hot asphalt and car exhaust, all he smells is promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet. Or at least as sweet as I get.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny treat for my reader Satisfied, although I doubt it will sate.

Down in the hall of the club dubbed ‘The Gauntlet’, cold concrete bites into bare knees. They ache, but not as much as Derek’s chest, compressed by the bitter weight of the worry he might not find what he’s looking for tonight.

Not that he hasn’t had offers. He has.

Dozens.

Displayed as he is in the hallway’s dim light with all the rest of the night's submissive offerings, kneeling, thighs splayed, arms clasped behind him, naked but for his heavy boots and harness, in the past hours countless hands have trailed over his skin.

His pierced nipples should be bruised from the pinch of wordless invitations. He’s weathered come-ons of face slaps, throat and cock grabs, as well as kisses and whispered promises.

The guys wait for him to respond and then usually walk away in silent anger. He’s been cursed at and spit on too for refusing but doms though they may be, consent is the club’s one constant.

So he ignores the touches, the seductive looks, the propositions, all without the slightest twinge of guilt.

Because none of them are what he’s after.

He doesn’t want posers who smell of new leather or lisping faggots struggling to make their fey voices deeper. No half-time doms either, who would take him home, rough fuck him hard, and then make him breakfast in the morning..

No, Derek needs a real man. A born dominant.

And his want is so deep and so pure it’s the one thing in his tragic, tormented life he won’t apologize for.

Then he sees him.

The guy swaggers in quiet confidence with a body built not at the gym but by true labor. Standing 6’ 3” with broad shoulders, a flat belly, and muscular thighs he’s an urban gladiator.

A thick, well-trimmed beard stands in sharp contrast to his shaved bald head. The dark hair on his forearms mottles the bold Celtic sleeves he sports from wrists to elbows. And the fat bulge at his crotch holds so much promise.

Looking out of place amidst the others’ pageantry in his faded blue jeans and flannel, he could have just walked in off the worksite. Except his shirt is open and his broad hairy chest sports a dom's harness so wonderfully aged it could have passed down to him by his father.

Just the thought of blood transferred dominance sets Derek’s wolf and his cock howling.

Even without this though, the guy reeks a testosterone funk that makes him want to roll over and offer his belly. And he’s not the only one. Every sub in The Gauntlet is affected by this new presence and now putting on their best show.

Derek’s heart is in his throat when the guy begins his slow amble down the hall. He can’t breathe each time the alpha stops to inspect someone.

Not usually a creature of prayer, he beseeches any deity within hearing that he can be what this man is looking for. His guts twist, his lips buzz, and his ass aches to serve.

Taking his sweet time, the guy examines sleek twinks, gym-packed studs, leather pups, and soft bears. At each resumption of his stroll Derek’s nostrils burn with the smell of submissive sorrow. 

Including his own.

He clenches his jaw and fights the sting in his eyes when the alpha walks past him without pause. His failure makes him want to bolt.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he tortures himself, determined to see who this alpha picks.

It’s cold comfort when the guy makes it to the end of the hall having chosen no one. Of course, Derek agrees with his wisdom.

None of them are worthy.

But then the man turns around and walks back.

When dusty boots stop in front of him, Derek doesn’t dare lift his head. his heart beats so hard he thinks he might pass out. This dizziness grows when a steeled toe catches the underside of his rock hard cock and lifts.

A moment later, under a heavy-treaded sole, his dick is pressed with perfect pressure against his belly.

“What’s this?”

The low gravel of the voice above him is so perfect. Not dramatic, merely curious.

Heat explodes in Derek’s chest. It floods his face. He knows he has a great cock. A top’s dream as well as a bottom’s. Nine thick uncut inches with an arch guaranteed to find all the right spots in a face to face fuck without effort. But in this moment all that is meaningless.

“It’s nothing, Sir.”

“Well, your nothing got my boot dirty, bitch.”

Staring down Derek blinks when he sees the truth of this. He’s not normally a leaker but a spurt of eager slick from him glistens on black leather.

The pressure lifts from his dick and his hazy eyes refocus, only to find the dom’s boot suspended in front of his mouth. Derek starts to lean forward but catches himself.

He hasn’t been given permission.

“Go on.”

There’s the barest bit of approval in the alpha’s tone and Derek doesn’t want to lose it. The most glorious wave of humiliation crashes over him as he immediately leans forward to lick his cock’s drool off soiled bootleather.

The flavors of tanned hide, concrete, sawdust, galvanized steel, piss and old polish burst on his tongue along with the tang of his shameful excitement and it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. It makes his mouth ardent and he loses himself to the fervor of this feast until the boot drops to his chest and pushes him back.

“Limits.”

That it’s posed as a statement and not a question makes Derek’s heart flutter faster. His stomach aches with his choice.

“None.”

The man looks uncertain for the first time since he entered but only for a split-second.

“Open your mouth.”

Derek’s mouth falls open without a thought about what might be shoved into it.

He’s fed nothing, however. Instead his tits are pinched and twisted, his pecs slapped. A large hand palms his shoulders and urges him forward. He moves as directed. Stays pliant as an ass cheek is gripped and jiggled. As a thick finger traces and breeches his tight man pussy, pushing in alongside the plug until it pinches his prostrate.

Once the finger leaves him, he’s pressed back on his knees and the dom leans over close enough Derek scents the smokiness from the steak he had for dinner lingering on the beard hairs around his mouth. He’s surprised when the guy moves in as if to kiss him but instead sniffs deeply and then straightens.

“Fucking top hole smells too clean for a dirty cocksucker.” Powerful arms cross over a broad chest. “Plus, you think I’m gonna stick my dick in a mint patch?”

The bottom of Derek’s world falls off at the critique. He chokes on the beg. Makes it die in his throat as he fights to keep his mouth open. Determined not to close it until this perfect man gives him permission.

“Lucky for you, there’s ways to fix that.”

Wide eyes watch as the dom reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a slender strip of bedazzled pink leather. From its delicate D-ring, a thin silver chain hangs. It's fixed around his neck with strong able fingers. The kittenish collar is a travesty set next to his sturdy black harness and Derek can’t remember the last time he felt so turned on.

“Come on, princess, we have some work to do to get you ready for me.” There’s a firm tug on Derek’s newly-claimed neck.

Through his still-open mouth he exhales the breath he’s been holding and gratefully crawls after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
